


Fortune Seeker

by Merfilly



Category: Sackett Series - Louis L'Amour
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Nonbinary Character, POV First Person, because l'amour used it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 20:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15590154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: Parmalee Sackett has a mind to move some of the Sackett wealth out west, away from the East and its silver issues. Little does he know he'll have trouble and alliances because of who he is.





	Fortune Seeker

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The Native People mentioned within is an extrapolation based on _Jubal Sackett_. While I have used the colonial's names for the peoples involved, it is from Parmalee's perspective and I think true to his era. 
> 
> 2\. This is prior to everything going sideways for Tell, upon losing Ange, but I chose to have Parmalee familiar with what his kin were up to in various parts of the southwest.

_Canon City, Colorado, 1877_

I had only just parted ways from Mr. Fabian when trouble found me. While I wished the acting troupe much success, for a heartless minute, I thought that this might be Ms. Marcus's way of insuring I did not return to it and usurp her dreams of setting the West afire with her charms.

Trouble, this time, involved three separate men, all of them with the size of cousin Nolan and his brother. Fortunately for me, not a one of them had ever learned to use the power such muscle gave with anything like skill. While one fell down after tripping over my leg, and another had a run in with a crossbeam support after I moved, I did wonder at the hostility.

Maybe the third would be of a mind to speak with me?

I turned that way to begin polishing up just how to bring the man around to reason, and discovered him staring at me for a long second, odd as a horse eating locoweed. Then he fell over, and I saw the reason why in a slender woman holding a camp skillet, dressed in the long dress of one of the nearby Ute people, fringe around the ankles, and elaborate beadwork all up around the chest and collar.

I supposed I shouldn't be upset over her clobbering my hope for getting to the bottom of this all, and opened my mouth to speak, only for her to turn and march right back into the building whose crossbeam had taken on the second man of the attackers. I was left without a chance to say my gratitude or surprise, and looked about to see what local law was thinking of the altercation.

The locals were stepping around or over the disturbances, and no one shining a fancy star was coming my way, so I memorized their faces real good and moved on… right into the hotel where Miss Ute had taken herself.

Well, wasn't life just full of surprises and fun?

* * *

Not having seen my skillet-wielding savior upon entry, I saw to getting my room in order and took off to it to get myself more presentable.

I'd no idea why I'd had such a greeting to my separation from the acting troupe, nor a mind to find more such trouble. I was here to find and speak with a man by name of Cassaday about his finds in the area, based on a tip of my cousin who'd been up to the Capital.

Banks were getting edgy over silver, and we Sacketts needed to get our wealth sorted out nearer to where most of us were living or headed. Cassaday, it was said, had been exploring petroleum for the last decade and some, selling it in Denver. I felt a need to poke at the idea on my own, before I made that long trip back to the East to gather up what had been left in the keeping of my part of the family.

I had to stop and think on my purpose here, and who I might have said a word to, given the unfriendly greeting earlier, but couldn't find a single motive in any that I'd said my purpose to. Now, I'm no fool, and just because I wasn't seeing it didn't mean there wasn't one. I certainly didn't look enough alike to Nolan or Logan for it to be a family thing, I thought, as those two were more apt to stir trouble than the rest out here.

Maybe it had just been my fancy shirt begging trouble, or that I'd been seen in Mr. Fabian's company a bit much. Some folks did take offense to freer spirits like he was.

I set those thoughts aside, and made myself presentable enough to go and find my dinner, heading down. Cassaday and other entrepreneurs must be doing well, as this town wasn't quite the cowpoke camps we'd passed through on our circuit. I'd chosen to change my lodgings from the one nearer to the outskirts when I parted from the troupe, in order to better canvas the people and find out about Cassaday.

Getting around a meal saw me to a better mindset, and I took in the people around me a bit more. There was an air of hard work and desperately seeking civility I'd seen in a number of silver towns. They were hoping they'd made something here that would last, I decided, and there were less of the drifting sort in this hotel.

Mayhaps they were at the other one, or over at the saloon I'd noted in making my way here.

I did see one person that stood out, and made me think I might want to watch my step closely if Miss Ute crossed my path. It was a brave, wearing the long tunic of the Ute, with symbols worked into it.

If I was going to stay in the area, I might need to take a look at learning a mite bit more about the Ute, since they seemed to be the more numerous native people. I didn't let my eyes linger too long; I'd learned that was seen as rude by many, and a challenge by some, but one of the symbols worked into the tunic had caught my eye.

I'd seen it among the Natchez, when I'd made my way down the Trace once before coming west. It couldn't possibly be the same sun symbol, with the same meaning… could it?

* * *

Morning saw me up and heading over to the General Mercantile. If I was going to get to business, I needed to know when and where to find Cassaday to talk out this petroleum business at length. I had no wish to be in it myself, save as an investor; cattle were still more than enough to keep me content for work, when I stopped my traveling. 

The store was mostly quiet, goods all on display and some of the fancier items with string tags showing firm prices on them. Some things just weren't worth dickering over, and this store knew to show it up front.

Before I'd meandered over to the man at the lockbox though, I recognized my savior from the fight the day before, and figured I had to be gentlemanly. I walked toward her, mindful of if the brave was around, and stopped at a distance that should be polite.

"Miss," I said, to bring her attention away from the textiles she'd been looking at. She turned, fringed skirt brushing against the table, and met my eyes. Was I imagining that she seemed to know who I was? Or maybe it was just from helping me. "I wanted to say thank you."

"Then do so," she said with a twitch of the corner of her mouth… and I smiled broadly for that nuance on words she'd caught.

"Thank you, Miss…" and I let my voice trail off, hoping for an introduction.

"You are welcome, Sac-Kett," she said before walking away in a swirl of fringe and my own confusion stopping me from interceding.

How did she know my name? 

My brain caught up, but she was already walking out the door, and I still had business to accomplish.

* * *

A long chat with the store clerk had told me Cassaday didn't much care for company, but that his foreman out where he had his drilling might be willing to talk to me more.

I should have known better.

I had no idea if my horse had run or was dead, as I'd wound up down the hillside from the small meeting I'd had with a few more of those Nolan-sized hired-guns.

The sun was slipping down when I became aware of these ideas, that maybe the meeting had been a setup to get rid of me, and that I must have been still enough that no one wanted to come check if I were dead. I took stock of my situation, knew I'd hit my head hard enough to make me doubt how many fingers I was holding up, and that I'd likely bruised parts of myself that would be a longer time healing than I cared for.

I still had to get up that hill, too, to find out about my horse. I'd only just hired her that morning, so if she lived, more than like she had run back to her corral, but I had to be certain.

I had just managed to roll to my belly, and was contemplating the crawl when a rope thumped down beside me. I eyed it, then looked up but I couldn't see anyone. Was this another trap?

Did I have a choice?

Steeling myself against potentially having to fight, I rigged the rope around myself and then pushed to my feet. I was thankful for the rig, as I started being pulled even as I used the rope to help myself get up the side of the hill.

When I crested enough to see my benefactor, or potential villain, it was to find the brave from the hotel there, carefully pulling the rope along after having put it around a tree away from the edge of the hill. 

"Many thanks, friend," I said to him, even as he held tight to let me make the last few steps. Once I was sturdily on the top, he started coiling the rope, attention not on me but the area we were in. It gave me time to catch my breath, a process I was finishing when he moved to stand near me, holding out a canteen.

"Drink."

Gladly, I did, adding the restoration of water to my growing clarity of mind. Someone had taken a firm dislike to me, and yet I also had an ally, or pair of them perhaps, that didn't wish me to perish. "Mighty good of you to come for -- "

My voice trailed off, as the dying evening light caught on one of the symbols worked into his long tunic. A stylized 'S' with three slashes beneath it was one of the oldest trail signs we'd looked for, coming west, told to all children of the Sackett bloodline. My eyes came up to his face in disbelief, as I tried to convince myself it just wasn't possible.

"Sac-Kett is in trouble. We are here."

No. It was possible, apparently, and I had a bigger mystery than how in all of the West I'd managed to wind up with people trying to kill me.

"I hear a story I really want to know, but maybe we should mosey on back to town?" I said, rather than ask any of the dozen questions in my mind.

"Wise."

* * *

The brave and I wound up in my room at the hotel, where he indicated I should take my shirt off and let him look at the damage from my roll down the hill. As I couldn't see my back, and it stung to get the shirt off, I had to agree and let him start dealing with it.

I had forgotten that it didn't take whiskey to burn open cuts, as he used water and the remnants of my shirt that were clean enough to set to his task.

"What name do you use?" I asked, to take my mind off whatever he was pulling out of the scrapes the hill had given me.

"Most white men call me Storm. It's close enough."

I looked at him, wondered just what feat he'd done to earn that name, or if it applied to his birth, and nodded once. "Now, there's this thing where you and the young lady that helped me call me 'Sac-Kett'. And that is confusing me, as I didn't think any of my cousins had wandered to these parts yet," I told him.

I couldn't see his face, but the pressure in cleaning my scrapes changed, just a bit, as if he had paused and then caught himself. 

"Not your cousins," Storm agreed. "Your name was heard in Denver. I came to see, and learn of you. But others, with grudges, also looked for you. They do not want you to reach Cassaday. They control his capital."

Things suddenly clarified for me, even as I wondered how and why they thought I was --

Orrin and Tye. What they had done, cleaning up against Jonathan Pritts and his gang down in Santa Fe, cast a long shadow, it looked like. Might be that some of Cassaday's investors tied back to them even.

"Well, they've gone and made a bad mistake by setting my stubborn in place," I said aloud, once that clicked for me. Storm moved back, and I rose from the stool to see to getting a new shirt from my suitcase. It let me see him, which is even more what I wanted. "Doesn't, friend, answer the fact you came looking for a Sackett, but it's not about my cousins." I then narrowed my gaze to the mark in his tunic. "Or that."

Storm glanced down, and slowly smiled. "His memory lives among the ones left behind? The Sac-Kett came, with the Natchee, and his Kickapoo warrior. Others joined, over years, children born and lived to them, with the Weeminuche you take me for coming to them. Many, many seasons have passed, but we keep the tale of the Sac-Kett and his Sun among us, a secret, as we keep our homeland safe from others."

I found myself mighty glad the stool was close, as I sat down on it and considered just what Storm was telling me. The legend of the wandering Sackett, Jubal Sackett of the first generation born on this continent, were old and varied. Now, here was a man that could tell me what had become of that long-lost member of the clan.

"Friend, I want to hear as much of that history as you may share with me," I finally said, quietly. "Just as soon as I show some ignorant business folk that it never pays to hit first with a Sackett."

* * *

Storm, being familiar with the town, was able to point me exactly to where I needed to be to get to Cassaday away from his bankrollers' minions. Turned out the man had a fondness for riding the fields that he was working from at least once a week, and the morning was looking like he'd be doing so, given the request for a horse from the livery.

As the livery was none too pleased by the mare of the previous day coming back alone, I was obliged to ask Storm for aid in procuring a horse, and he gave me the loan of the gelding he'd brought me back on. 

"Sac-Kett, be careful. Or you will not hear the stories," Storm told me as I mounted up in the saddle just a bit past dawn. I had to smile, and he did too, which made me like the man a bit more. A sense of humor in the face of an uncertain future was worth having.

I rode out with that in mind, chewing over the fact that Storm was a link to my family's past, but also an intriguing fellow all on his own. I wondered if Miss Ute -- and I should have asked Storm for her name -- would have the same sense of humor. 

Once I wrapped up with Cassaday, I'd see about finding out more on the both of them.

As I ranged out toward the fields, I took note that the path I was on had seen a bear through some time recently. The slashes on the bark at the normal level were quite impressive, but I dropped my sight lower, squinting a bit, to see the fainter scratches in the bark, showing it was a sow and cub. 

I'd be mindful of the signs, and kept my ears out wide, wishing I'd strapped a rifle to the saddle. Six-shooters just weren't meant for such a thing as chasing a bear off. Especially not a mother bear with her cub.

My timing seemed to be on spot, almost better than when I was on stage, as I came up on the fields at an angle that had me close enough to the man I was looking for to give a friendly greeting.

"Mister Cassaday. I'm Parmalee Sackett, and I've been wishing to meet up with you for a few days now."

"And why haven't you, young man?" Cassaday asked, even as he surveyed me. I couldn't see a line of deceit in him at all, and that made me feel a mite bit better about pushing on through on my goals.

"Ran amiss with a few ruffians," I admitted to him. "Seems you have a few that would prefer to keep you all to themselves, when it comes to funding your production here," I added when he frowned.

Cassaday took a deep breath and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Ahh. Yes, well, when I wanted that sixth hole drilled, I had a feeling about Braxton. Shouldn't have gotten greedy and gotten in bed with him, but the capital's not paid back yet."

"What if I give you the money, to invest and to pay him back, so you're clear of that kind of man?" I asked. "Been looking for a solid investment to make for my family's money from back east, before this silver scare gets much worse, you see, and that's the whole reason I came to find you, Mister Cassaday.

"People down Denver way say you're the future, and things I see suggest that's the right of it."

Cassaday sized me up. "You any kin to that congressman?"

I nodded; no denying that. "He's why I know the silver scare is only getting worse, back east. Whole other branch of the family, but where one Sackett goes, others follow… for good and bad."

Cassaday gave a faint smile. "Meaning if Braxton gets ugly over this, there'll be a bit of extra push to come help?"

"Last I knew, Logan Sackett was roaming up around this way," I answered that. "And wire reaches a few other places where some of us are settling down at."

"Let's finish riding the fields then, and we'll go down the the bank to see about setting out a proper contract," Cassaday told me.

* * *

I meant to find Storm, after I signed the contract, but the hotel was mostly empty in the common area. Mostly, but not completely, as I saw Miss Ute sitting in a window seat, sewing by the light coming in there. 

I did need to make certain Storm knew where his horse was, and I ought to get this woman's real name instead of using the generic description for her. I gathered up my charm and manners to do just that, when something made me twitch back toward the door.

If I had to guess, the boiled shirt walking in was Braxton. Had the mean sort of look that a self-made man tended to have when his making was through violence. The trio surrounding him included one of the three from the first altercation, and a twin to him in size and ugly. The third was a wiry little man, and I marked him out as the most dangerous of the three, likely. 

Small men who ran in gangs generally fought better, or more dirtily.

"I think we ought to step back out, gentlemen, for this discussion," I said with enough carry in my voice to alert both Miss Ute and the man tending bar by straightening up for the afternoon's crowd.

"Now why would we, Mister Sackett? Just a friendly little chat over the fact you're going to misplace your new contract," Braxton said, arrogance in his voice and bullying in the set of every pair of shoulders between me and the door.

I let a word or three that should not be uttered outside of Shakespeare's plays cross my thoughts, and took in my options. I was the stranger here. If the place got busted up, more as like, they'd turn it on me. That was assuming I had the good luck to come out of this whole enough to care, and the odds weren't in my favor. I was fairly certain Braxton at least was heeled, maybe the big one to his left and back.

Wiry fellow was almost definitely carrying a knife but the other brawler looked to be clear of anything, even spurs on the boots.

"Can't see myself doing that to Mister Cassaday after our chit-chat," I told him. I leveled my look on Braxton himself. "Seems he had not heard about the ways a Mister Pritts had come to difficulty, or the kind of men that he'd surrounded himself with."

Braxton's eyes went narrow; I'd surmised the nature of my enemy dead on then. And if he thought I'd be a bit of revenge on Orrin and Tye… well, I'd just as soon disabuse him of the notion. Without taking my eyes off the leader, I spoke to the brutes and little fellow. 

"If he's been trading on having a big money partner down Santa Fe way, I'd like to straighten the story out. Seems Pritts bit off far more than he could chew in trying to chase Mexicans off their rightful land claims. So, unless you've already been paid for today's 'discussion', you might want to be moving on."

The two brutes showed no sign of being worried about that, but the little one looked a mite nervous. He was definitely the one to watch out for, if he was smart enough to wonder what I was trading on that I wasn't just backing down.

Honestly, I only had my words at this point, but I made a good living on those, when I wasn't working cattle or finding opportunities like Mister Cassaday.

"I'm done being nice, Sackett," Braxton said then, and he lunged forward.

It was telegraphed, and I knew it was still a fake out, intending to make me dodge a certain way, let one of the two oak trees get a blow in. I didn't feel much like obliging, though, and dropped low, angling my body a bit forward. His gut met my shoulder, and I pushed up on the balls of my feet, taking him momentarily off of his. Before he could get hands on to hold me, though, I threw him off, tangling one of the brutes up for the moment.

A large part of me knew the smartest thing was to get out while I had a chance.

I'm just too much a Sackett, though, to do that, when there were two bystanders, one of whom might have been collared as having helped me before and therefore be at risk. 

I spun to the side then, fist already coming up to land a good crack on the little fellow. My instinct was sound as he was getting into the fight, but he was quick enough to deflect my punch, stepping into to throw a low one into my gut. I knew enough from running into Lando that I had to fold around it, give myself a chance to catch my wind back, but also mindful of where the other man's knee was. 

Sure enough, he started to bring it up, and I moved to catch it, no matter that breathing was like fire and my gut didn't want to straighten with the next part of this. I had to pull and throw, while bringing myself upright, using what Lando had taught me when I'd met him, to get this fellow out of the fight fast.

It worked, but now the brute that hadn't been touched was close enough to lay hands on me. I vaguely heard the bartender yelling about the fight, and could just see motion along the outer edge of the fight, as Miss Ute made an escape. That suited me fine; I didn't want her getting messed up in this, as I tried to keep from landing my face on the oak tree's fists.

The trio, and Braxton, were intent on giving me a working over, just as much as I was making certain to keep them from doing so, working to get myself on the door side of things now that Miss Ute had moved out. What I wasn't expecting was to have more people arrive, some of whom took offense to the fight happening in their hotel.

One of those was the town marshal, which meant I was just as likely to wind up in the jail as any of these four. I happened to catch the shiny star as I backed off, almost immediately, on the entry of others, taking another punch to my gut for my trouble.

"Braxton!" the marshal snapped out. "Mean to tell me the meaning of this?"

The man caught himself mid-swing at me and turned to straighten up. "Defending myself is all, marshal. This _actor_ ," and he made the word sound like a grave enough insult that my blood boiled up for a moment, "is acting against the interests of our fair town."

The marshal looked over at me, and then back to Braxton. "Yesterday, I might have believed that," he admitted. "But, seems Mister Cassaday dropped by to talk with me earlier, and I went rifling around in the older notices wired in."

My eyes flicked over the assembled folks, and I saw Miss Ute standing toward the back of it, looking vaguely smug over what was happening.

"So, Braxton, you and your accomplices will come along with me. Seems a Judge Spicer down in the Arizona Territory would like to have a word with you."

"You can't — " Braxton's protest got cut off before it got any further by two of the cattlemen with the marshal taking hold of both his arms to escort him out. The three goons got the same treatment, before the marshal eyed me sharply.

"As to you —"

"Marshal," the bartender called out, an honest man. "Mister Sackett did try to head off the trouble, and didn't throw a punch until he was rushed, four on one."

The marshal actually chuckled. "I know, Jed. Dawn let me know when she came up to me on my way in," he told the man. He then focused back on me. "Mister Cassaday has brought us security and prosperity. Take care, Mister Sackett, that your family's troubles don't imperil that."

I supposed we'd been busy making a bit too much of a name for ourselves, then, but I nodded. "Yes, sir. I will."

Dawn? Was that Miss Ute's name?

The circus of people started clearing out, and I made note to thank Mister Cassaday for having foresight to head Braxton off, before I realized Miss Ute had come into my view more closely.

"You have some cuts," she said, reaching up to lightly touch my face where a blow had landed. "And your back probably needs bandaging again. Come, Sac-Kett."

"You can call me Parmalee," I told her, before taking a gamble that Dawn was her name. "Miss Dawn."

"In time, maybe. For now, you are the Sac-Kett," she said, with something enigmatic in her voice, something that had me following her more readily than just needing my face tended to.

* * *

Dawn had as steady a touch as Storm, and soon had me cleaned up. That I could have done it for myself was all well and fine, but there was something special about letting another help.

Especially this woman who had twice now aided me.

"I brought Storm's horse back," I finally said, while chewing over the fact that Dawn had brought me back to my room, just like Storm had. Then again, which would be worse for her? Being in my room, or me in hers, in the eyes of the local gentry?

"We know."

Well, that hadn't been helpful for learning how the pair were connected.

I looked over at her once I had my shirt back on from her tending the bandages Storm had put on me. She was wearing the sun symbol beaded into this dress too, the one that spoke of the Natchez ways rather than any people that had lived on the Plains or in these mountains. I focused on that a moment, then looked at her face, not quite meeting eyes so that I wouldn't be rude.

"Do I get to know more about the pair of you, and how the lost Sackett came to be part of your ways?"

"Yes."

Her smile twitched though, as she said it, and I wondered just why. 

"Later, I take it?" I asked, when she offered nothing further. That got a small laugh, before she nodded, and surprised me with a quick caress of my cheek, before she stepped back.

"You were up early. Rest a bit. Storm will be here later for you."

I found I was tired, even as the idea of sleeping with the sun up seemed ludicrous. What was it Tell had said once? Soldiers sleep when they can. I was no soldier, but I was bruised through and through, so maybe Dawn had the right of it.

"Dinner?" I said as she reached the door.

"With Storm," she said, insisting on that before she let herself out.

* * *

I slept maybe an hour, and then realized how damned stiff I was. That had me up and moving again, as I couldn't afford to lose my flexibility. I didn't know what room Storm and Dawn had, so I couldn't just find them for a chat, and Dawn had said 'dinner'. Why they both weren't going to be there was a mystery. Maybe there was a taboo about the womenfolk eating with the men.

I took myself over to the mercantile, bought myself a new shirt, and then noticed they had some notions in fancy tins, so I bought one of those for Dawn. I wasn't quite certain it was the best way to say thank you, but I could try. For Storm, I picked up a well-made Barlow, something he could tuck away in a pocket and have handy. It wasn't as good as a knife from the Tinker, but it was a beginning on the debt between us.

When it was close to a proper dinner hour, I took myself back to the hotel, and looked around for Storm. Nor did I look long, as the man was just to one side, watching people, wearing the tunic with my family's blaze sign on it. I was itching to get that full story, to have something to share with the others as I crossed their paths… and a part of me hoped that maybe Storm and Dawn would be around to share the tale with my cousins directly.

Maybe I'd been traveling with the troupe too long, and grown more accustomed to not being alone. Or mayhaps it was just that both of these people with ties to my family's biggest mystery were the kind of people I felt I could make a last stand with.

"You look like a bison dragged you over a cactus," Storm said helpfully. "I thought sleeping helped with that."

So Dawn had told him I meant to nap. "Woke up more stiff than when I laid down. Might be getting old."

He snorted. "No one is old, until they choose to be."

I had to nod at that. Rumor had it there was an old man, distant uncle who'd gone one on one with a bear and come out on top well past the age most men would say suited such.

"So how do I go about getting the story of my family from you, Storm? Because I am mighty curious."

Storm indicated two dinners to the hotel man taking care of such things, before he answered me. "It is a long story, best told as the night grows long, to pass the time."

"You or Dawn to tell it to me, then? Or both?" I asked, not certain who told the stories among the Ute… or the Natchez, if those were the ways they kept less openly.

Storm gave me the most appraising look I had seen off a brave yet, and I'd had a serious run in with the Comanche a few months prior.

"It is both, in the way of our own people," Storm finally told me. "Now, Sac-Kett, are you a man of the Settlements, or a man of freedom, and able to learn, to listen, to one who blends all parts of life?"

Both — oh! "I may have been born in the Settlements, but I learned early on to take people as they come to you. All I've seen of you says you're one to have at my back."

The way I answered must have set him at ease, because he nodded once, just before our meals, a good Irish stew, were set in front of us, and we could settle in to eating.

I had a feeling this wasn't going to be our last meal shared, even as I set my mind to how best to learn Storm's and Dawn's way of approaching life, so I didn't step on their toes going forward.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. The Ute referred to here, unless I erred spectacularly, are the Weminuche, or Ute Mountain Tribe.
> 
> 2\. The name I can find for the Natchez (native to my home state!!) is Nah'chee. 
> 
> 3\. The concept of Two-Spirit is annotated as a modern term that has been embraced by more than the originating people, but I could not find definitive history for the Weminuche or Nah'chee having a designated non-binary gender role. I prefer to believe this is an error of colonial historic records' keeping. The Weminuche, from what I could find, seemed to allow for a blending of gender roles in who could do what, and I am erring on the hopeful side that their ways allowed for non-binary. 
> 
> 4\. The clear separation of personality between Dawn and Storm is deliberate, wherein they use their presenting gender to meet gender stereotypes as they move through white settlements.
> 
> 5\. Cassaday is based on the real life historic person, but I could not find solid info on what he was like and took authorial liberty. Mr. Fabian and Ms. Marcus are based on those named individuals as portrayed by Billy Zane and Dana Delaney in _Tombstone_.


End file.
